


Make Me Feel Like I'm Breathing

by alittlesecret



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Age Difference, Amorality, Bad Touch, Bad wrong, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Drugged Sex, Emotional Manipulation, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Underage, Finger Sucking, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Masturbation, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rimming, Shota Stiles, Snowballing, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-24 13:54:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1607531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alittlesecret/pseuds/alittlesecret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is Rafa's weakness. He knows it's wrong, but sometimes it becomes too much to handle. Rafa's willpower was never his strong suit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Heed the tags! This fic has extremely underage (re: Stiles' mother is still alive at the beginning of this fic, so take that as you will) so if you have issue with that then don't read this fic. 
> 
> This is pure fantasy, and does not indicate my feelings rl on the subject re: shota etc. NOT REAL. 
> 
> this is unbeta'd, all mistakes are my own. let me know if another tag is needed.

“Are you sure it’s fine?” John Stilinski said as he handed over a sleeping Stiles to Rafa. Rafa held Stiles under his ass, putting a hand on his lower back as his head rest against Rafa’s shoulder, his mouth open, his limbs limp in Rafa’s arms. 

“Of course,” Rafa said, meaning it. “Anytime.” 

“Thanks,” John said, giving Stiles one last look before he turned to head towards the cruiser. He had the night shift, and couldn’t leave Stiles alone in the house, not with Claudia in the hospital. Before Rafa had a chance to close the door, John came running back with Stiles’ bag, along with a pillow. “Here, he can’t sleep without it.” 

“You pick him up whenever you can, get some rest,” Rafa said, only guessing at how exhausted he must be. With the door closed, Rafa held Stiles in his arms, rocking back and forth in place. Stiles was dead asleep; nothing would wake him. If Rafa cupped his ass on the way up the stairs, Stiles was none the wiser for it. Rafa touched his fingers to bare skin as Stiles’ shirt rucked up his back, sighing at the contact. 

It was all Rafa would get, allow himself to have with Melissa asleep in their room. He opened Scott’s bedroom door, placing Stiles on the bed next to him. He ran his hand over Stiles’ head, his fingers raking through his unruly hair, thumb ghosting over his lips. 

Rafa sighed, taking a step away from them, heading downstairs to grab Stiles’ things. When he returned, Stiles curled in towards Scott, his little fingers linked together with Rafa’s son’s. He bent over, cupping Stiles’ head in order to lift it, placing the pillow beneath it. Stiles didn’t stir, so Rafa kissed his forehead, then Scott’s, though his lips lingered more on Stiles’. 

Everything seemed so easy by the light of the moon, with only the darkness around him able to see the man he really was. Rafa gave one last look to the sleeping forms on the bed before he shut the door. 

-

“Stiles, you have to eat your breakfast,” Melissa said as she rushed around the kitchen. Stiles played with his cheerios, his body swinging back and forth in his seat as he tried to look through one of the small pieces, making an ‘o’ shape with his mouth as Scott had a spoon in his mouth, moving along with Stiles. 

“Boys, eat up,” Rafa said at the table, giving them a look as he took a sip of his coffee. Stiles kept swaying in his seat, but he picked up some cheerios with his fingers, dipping them in the milk before putting them in his mouth. “Stiles, spoon.” 

“As long as he eats it, I don’t care,” Melissa said. “Claudia said he has trouble eating.” Rafa took that into account as Melissa rushed over, kissing him, then Scott. “I’ll be back in twelve hours, are you sure you have them?” 

“I said, didn’t I?” Rafa said as he turned the page of the paper. It was Saturday, and he was off. 

“Just checking,” Melissa said, putting her hands up before grabbing her purse. “You boys be good.” 

“We will!” Scott called out. 

“Yes, Ms. Melissa!” Stiles said after the door was already shut. As soon as the garage closed, Rafa turned to look at the two boys, who continued eating. Well, Scott did, Stiles, not so much. He _was_ licking his fingers, though. Rafa licked his lips, steeling himself for a day full of innuendos and circumstances he couldn’t do a thing about. 

“Who wants to watch Ben10?” Rafa asked. Stiles’ hand shot up into the sky, his eyes wide as it waved around. Scott nodded his head slowly over and over again as he put another spoonful of cheerios into his mouth. “You can’t watch it until your cheerios are gone, even the milk,” Rafa said, looking Stiles in the eye. 

“I’m full,” Stiles said. 

“Me too,” Scott added. 

“Well I gues no Ben10, then,” Rafa said with a sigh, looking at his newspaper like it wans’t a big deal. They exchanged glances, then picked up their bowls, drinking it up, cheerios and all. They made a mess, which was to be expected. 

“Shirts off,” Rafa said after they put their dishes in the sink. “I’ll put the show on and get you new ones.” Rafa helped Scott out of his first, then Stiles, his hands unable to help themselves as they lingered on his slim sides, a thumb brushing over a nipple. Stiles squirmed, but nothing out of the ordinary. Rafa knew he was recently diagnosed with ADHD, he had heard Melissa talking to Claudia over the phone about it. Too young for medication for it, they had to wait a few more years to do anything about it. _Too young_. 

Rafa put Ben10 on, then cleaned up the mess on the table. He took his time, watching the boys wrestle around on the couch, Stiles always touching, always poking and prodding. Scott took it all in stride, of course. He loved when Stiles got to spend the night. 

After the episode, Rafa helped them put on new shirts, ruffling Scott’s hair just so he could do the same to Stiles, his eyes closing, his grin wide as Rafa carded his fingers through his hair. 

“I’ve got to do some outside work, why don’t you boys play out back as I do it?” Rafa said. He had to mow the lawn, then maybe he would put on the sprinkler for the boys to run through. 

“I want to swing first!” Stiles called out. 

“Okay, but then me,” Scott said. Stiles took Scott’s hand as Rafa followed them outside. It was going to be a long afternoon. He watched them play out of the corner of his eye as he did yardwork, the two of them never straying far as they imagined made up worlds and far away places that his adult mind had forgotten how to do. They were at the age that imagination ran rampant, and everything was make believe. Rafa envied them as they drew on the sidewalk out front as he mowed the front lawn, their hands covered in different colors. 

When he was done, he took off his shirt to wipe his face with it. It was a hot day, warm enough that they would love him if he put out the sprinkler. He did so without comment, turning it on just to see their faces. 

“Can we? Can we?” Scott asked as Stiles danced around, tugging impatiently at his shirt. 

“Let’s not send these clothes to the hamper just yet,” Rafa said as he pulled them closer to him, helping them out of their shirts, shoes, and socks. Stiles shoved his shorts down, too, showing off his Spiderman briefs. 

“Oh, cool,” Scott said, touching them without realizing what personal boundaries were. Stiles, too, had no idea as he grasped at Rafa’s bare chest, holding onto him as he took off his own socks, his small fingernails digging into his skin. “Dad, I want ones like that,” Scott exclaimed. 

“You have Thor ones, I want those,” Stiles pointed out. 

“We can just switch,” Scott said, shrugging. Stiles nodded his head as Rafa put their clothes into piles. 

“Go on, I’ll turn the water off when it’s time for lunch.” Rafa watched them for a moment, jumping through the sprinkler, getting soaked as they screamed. When it became too much, he gathered their clothes and went inside. Instead of going into the kitchen, Rafa made his way into the master bathroom. He locked the door, holding onto Stiles’ shirt in his hand as he shoved his shorts down, revealing his erection. He sank to his knees on the tiled floor, resting his head against the sink as he wrapped a hand around his cock while the other pressed Stiles’ shirt beneath his nose. He closed his eyes as he breathed in the scent of him, jacking off to the smell of Stiles. He moaned as he allowed himself this one thing, hidden away from the sight of anyone. 

He thrust his hips against his hand, fucking himself as he thought of Stiles, his addiction. It was wrong, how much he wanted him, but he couldn’t stop the thoughts from flooding his mind. He wanted to touch, he wanted to defile the one thing he couldn’t have. Rafa bit down on the cotton shirt as he came in his hand, come splashing against his stomach. He was going to hell, that much he knew, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to rub Stiles’ shirt over himself. Rafa refrained from doing so, but the thought alone made his dick twitch. 

When he emerged to make sandwiches, he checked on the boys. They were still running around, jumping through the sprinkler. He took his time, cutting the crusts off their bologna and cheese sandwiches before grabbing two towels from the linen closet. As he opened the front door, the two boys groaned. 

“No!” Scott said, pouting. 

“We’re not done!” Stiles protested. 

“Come here, let me see your fingers,” Rafa said, gesturing for them to come forward. They stomped their way over to him, holding out their hands. They were pruny, white; they needed to get out of the water. “I think it’s time to eat.” 

“No,” Stiles complained, elongating his plea, his feet stamping in place as Rafa wrapped a towel around Scott, drying him off. Stiles waited his turn, and once Scott was sent inside to sit at the kitchen table, Rafa was alone with Stiles on the front porch. Even though they were surrounded by other houses, by neighbors, Rafa knew it was a time to cherish. He wrapped Stiles in the towel, a hand on his back as he dried him off. He used his hands, over the towel, to dry off Stiles’ legs, his arms, his hair, holding him closer than Scott. 

“I cut off the crusts,” Rafa said as Stiles looked down, watching Rafa’s hands roam over his body. 

“I don’t mind crusts,” Stiles said as he rubbed at his eye. “Mom says it’s good for me.”

“She’s right,” Rafa said, running a finger down his nose. Stiles grinned, his eyes blinking up at Rafa as he stood, ushering Stiles inside. “Sit on the towel,” Rafa called out as Stiles almost sat at the kitchen table on his wet underwear. 

He watched as Stiles picked at the sandwich, ripping it apart bit by bit, eating the smallest possible pieces of bread and cheese. 

“Stiles, I want you to eat half of that sandwich,” Rafa said as he went to make his own. Stiles nodded his head as he watched Scott eat his the normal way. 

“My dad said I’m going to get to see my mom tomorrow,” Stiles said as his legs swung back and forth under the table, his elbows splayed up on the tabletop as he chewed his food with an open mouth. 

“Oh? Is he taking you to see her?” 

“Uh huh,” Stiles said. “Since I’ve been good.” 

“You have been,” Rafa pointed out, watching Stiles take a big bite of his sandwich, almost too big. So big that what he said next was completely unintelligible. “Stiles, chew with your mouth closed.” Scott laughed as Stiles attempted to do just that.

After that, it was an afternoon full of legos, X-Men action figures, and Avatar: The Last Airbender on TV. Rafa mostly worked at the kitchen table, keeping an eye on them as he had a report open. He could hear them chattering away, making up stories as Wolverine went head to head with Cyclops and Nightcrawler. He didn’t want to interrupt them, so he kept to his work. As much as he had a weakness for Stiles, he had no intention of disrupting his son’s own happiness. It was a fine line Rafa treaded on, he knew. 

If only Stiles wasn’t so innocently suggestive, maybe it would be easier. Like how he tugged at Rafa’s pant leg to get his attention, his hand on Rafa’s thigh as Scott tugged on his shirt on the opposite side. 

“Dad,” Scott pleaded. “Come play with us.”

“Me?” Rafa asked, looking at the two of them as Stiles played with his pant leg, pinching the fabric up with his small fingers. 

“Yeah we want to wrestle,” Stiles said, beginning to climb him, putting his barefoot on Rafa’s thigh. At least they were dressed, Rafa thought as he stood up, holding onto Stiles as he wrapped his legs around his waist as best he could as Scott swung from his arm, his feet in the air as he laughed. 

“Fe, fi, fo, fum,” Rafa called out as Stiles squealed in happiness that Rafa was playing with them. Scott scrambled off of him, climbing onto the couch as Rafa got down onto his knees, Stiles falling to the ground, Rafa easing him down so his head didn’t bump against the carpet. Scott jumped onto his back, holding onto Rafa’s neck as he straightened up, pretending to grab at Scott before trapping Stiles beneath him with his hands, making a cage of sorts. “I’ve caught Stiles,” Rafa announced. “I’m going to eat him for supper.” Stiles rolled around as Rafa tickled him, his body wriggling beneath his touch as he slid up Stiles’ shirt. Scott clung to him as Rafa bent over, blowing a raspberry on Stiles’ stomach. 

 

“No, dad! Don’t eat him!” Scott laughed as Rafa allowed his tongue to savor the taste of Stiles’ skin before he blew another one, Stiles laughing beneath him, his fingers in Rafa’s hair, tugging at it. Rafa moaned as Stiles’ feet pressed against his thighs, shifting unknowingly as Rafa’s hand roamed over his body, Stiles’ foot brushing over Rafa’s erection. He said nothing as Rafa freed him, letting him escape. Stiles crawled away, only for Rafa to wrap a hand around Stiles’ ankle, pulling him back. “You can’t escape me!” 

“Scott, help!” Stiles played along. “He’s gonna eat me!”

“I’ll save you!” Scott said pretending to stab Rafa over and over. “I’ll defeat the giant!” 

“No one can defeat me!” Rafa said, pulling Scott off his back, holding onto his waist as Scott flailed around. He caught Stiles, too, holding them both against his hips as he stood. 

“We’re supposed to win! We’re the good guys!” Scott cried out. 

“Good wins against evil!” Stiles squirmed. 

“Who said I was evil?” Rafa said. “What if you were the evil ones?”

“I’m Han Solo!” Stiles called out. “So I’m on the light side. It’s facts.”

“Giant says it’s time to watch more Ben10,” Rafa said, because if he didn’t get away from Stiles, he’d regret it. The two boys seemed more than okay at the thought of more Ben10, so Rafa wasn’t even missed as he went into the master bedroom once more to relieve himself. 

This time, he thought about the taste of Stiles on the tip of his tongue, of Stiles’ foot against his erection, outlining it as Rafa pinned him to the ground. Rafa allowed himself to think of Stiles’ mouth, what it would look like with the head of his cock in it, sucking at it, his eyes open wide, his fingers wrapped around his length. It didn’t take him long to come, his body shaking with pure want. He laughed as he rode out his orgasm, watching as he covered his hand in come. 

He looked in the mirror after washing his hands, his pupils blown wide with lust. 

-

He joined the boys on the couch, watching the show with them. They were crashing after a day full of fun, it seemed, as Scott leaned against him, putting his head on Rafa’s chest. With Scott it was easy, because he was Rafa’s son, but as Stiles shimmied over to do the same, Rafa tried not to react as he draped a hand over both of them, rubbing their backs as their eyes drooped shut. He continued to soothingly run his fingers up and down their backs, dipping lower and lower on Stiles’, then all the way up to his neck, ghosting his fingers across the nape of his neck before gently raking them down his spine. Stiles climbed closer, his hand gripping Rafa’s shirt as he curled up against him, his eyes forcing themselves to stay open. 

Scott was asleep on his other side, but Stiles’ irregular breathing let him know that he was still somewhat coherent. He had a leg draped over Rafa’s thigh, his toes flexing every minute or so as he brushed his thumb against his lips as if contemplating if he could stick it in his mouth or not. Rafa tried not to pay attention, tried to ignore the throbbing need he felt between his legs. He felt like a teenager, at how much he needed to jack off again. Stiles’ head moved, looking down at Rafa’s crotch. Rafa’s hand stilled on Stiles’ lower back where his fingers brushed against bare skin where his shirt had ridden up. 

“Are you okay?” Stiles asked him, his eyes wide as he looked up at Rafa, his body splayed across Rafa’s thigh, his thumb teasingly close to his mouth, catching on his bottom lip. 

“Sure am, kiddo,” Rafa said, his voice shaking as his stomach clenched. Unknowingly, Stiles sat up, straddling Rafa’s thigh, his own rubbing against Rafa’s erection. 

“You’re breathing funny,” Stiles pointed out, ever vigilant. “Like this.” Stiles started panting as he held onto Rafa’s shirt, moving against him. It was almost too much to handle, as his mouth hung open. 

“Do you want to wake up Scott?” Rafa asked, his voice hushed, avoiding the topic of conversation. Stiles looked to Scott, his eyes narrowing before he poked him. 

“He’s out for good,” Stiles said. 

“Maybe we should put him in bed,” Rafa suggested, his mouth watering at the thought of time alone with Stiles. Stiles nodded as he climbed off of Rafa, not giving his tented shorts another glance as he started towards Scott’s room, going up the stairs on hands and feet. Rafa came up behind him, holding Scott in his arms. 

When he entered Scott’s room, Stiles was sitting on the floor, playing with ninja turtles. Rafa put Scott in bed, covering him up before standing over Stiles, watching him play. 

“We should let Scott sleep, Stiles,” Rafa said with his hands on his hips. Stiles put the toys down then did the unexpected; he lifted his arms upwards towards Rafa, wanting to be picked up. He was getting too old for that, Rafa thought, even though he secretly was thrilled he could touch Stiles again. Rafa tried to give Stiles a look, but as he made a grabby hand gesture up at him, Rafa caved within moments. 

He picked Stiles up, holding onto his ass as Stiles’ legs attempted to wrap around his waist as they walked out of the room. Stiles had his head on Rafa’s shoulder as they descended the stairs, his lips touching Rafa’s neck as he breathed. When he sat back down on the couch, Stiles didn’t move. Instead, he made himself comfortable, tucking his arms against his chest, sandwiching them between Rafa’s and his own as he sat straddling Rafa’s hips, his knees bent and feet tucked up against Rafa’s thighs. 

“Are you comfortable?” Rafa asked. Stiles nodded his head, licking his lips, his tongue catching against Rafa’s neck. Rafa shifted, trying to situate himself so that Stiles couldn’t feel his erection. “What do you want to watch?” 

“Grown up stuff,” Stiles mumbled. Rafa could tell he was tired, too, but that he wanted to stay up. Rafa laughed as he placed a hand on Stiles’ back, rubbing it as he flipped through the channels with his other hand. Stiles shifted beneath his hand until his fingers were on bare skin once more, Stiles’ shirt hiking up his back. Stiles sighed as he buried his head against Rafa’s neck, apparently enjoying the skin on skin contact. 

“My mom gives good back rubs,” Stiles said, his voice muffled. “She scratches it.” 

“Like this?” Rafa asked as he raked his nails tenderly up and down Stiles’ back. Stiles nodded his head, wiggling himself further down Rafa’s chest so that his cheek rest against Rafa’s chest, over his heart. Stiles sat directly on Rafa’s erection. If he didn’t have more control, he would fuck up against him. Instead, Rafa continued scratching Stiles’ back.

Rafa didn’t pay attention to the TV, to the channel he stopped on, or the fact that the sun went down. He didn’t look at the time, or realize that he hadn’t turned on a lamp. He lost himself in having Stiles in his arms, warm against his chest as he breathed evenly, sleeping as Rafa rubbed his back. He closed his eyes, pressing his lips against the top of Stiles’ head, across his forehead. Stiles didn’t wake as he hoisted him up so that his head fell against Rafa’s shoulder, giving him enough room to free his cock.

It was wrong, so wrong as Rafa wrapped a hand around his cock as Stiles sat in his lap, asleep. He moaned as he jacked himself off, licking his lips as he breathed in the scent of Stiles, his hand on Stiles’ as, holding him up, his fingers rubbing against him, through the fabric of his clothes. He breathed heavily against Stiles’ hair as his pace quickened, spilling over his own hand. With nothing within reach, he licked at his own fingers, cleaning himself up as he attempted to control his breathing. Stiles shifted, turning his head so he faced away from Rafa. 

Rafa didn’t think as he brushed a come covered finger against Stiles’ lips, his open mouth experimentally. He moaned as Stiles took the finger into his mouth readily, sucking on it in his sleep, his tongue beneath the pad of Rafa’s finger, moving against it, his mouth moving instinctively. Rafa rest his head back against the couch, his mouth hanging open at the feel of Stiles’ warm, wet mouth around his finger. Slowly, Rafa replaced his index finger with his middle, slipping it further into Stiles’ mouth. Stiles stilled, his hands gripping Rafa’s shirt tight, his mouth stilling for a moment, scaring Rafa into thinking he had woken up. He thought he might have gone too far, so he backed his finger up enough that Stiles began sucking once more. 

He tucked himself back into his shorts, his hand going back up to Stiles’ spine. His hand covered almost the entirely of Stiles’ back, but his fingers were feather light as he skimmed over Stiles’ body, finally cupping his ass. Stiles’ breath hitched as Rafa became more brazen with his touches. Stiles let out a small moan, his legs spreading instinctively as he sucked and sucked at Rafa’s finger. Rafa teased himself by hooking a finger over the hem of Stiles’ shorts, tugging on them slightly before letting it go back, his hand remaining on Stiles’ ass, fingers nestled between his legs. He could feel himself getting hard again when the doorbell rang, startling him and Stiles. 

He pulled his finger from Stiles’ mouth, replacing it with Stiles’ own thumb, which he happily took into his mouth, his eyes fluttering open for only a moment as Rafa stood, holding onto Stiles normally as he answered the door. John stood there, looking into the dark living room. Rafa laughed, as he rubbed at his eyes. 

“Apparently the two of them can be a handful,” he feigned. “I set Scott down for a nap then Stiles and I fell asleep on the couch.” The Sheriff looked at them fondly, his eyes on Stiles as he reached out for his son. Rafa didn’t want to let him go, but he knew he had to; Stiles wasn’t his. Stiles clung to him, though, whining as John took him. 

“Stiles, you know better than to suck your thumb,” John reprimanded as he took it from Stiles’ mouth. 

“Dad,” Stiles complained as he shoved his hands against his chest, frowning with his entire face, groggy from being woken up.

“How was he?” John asked, cradling Stiles’ head in his hand. Rafa put his fingers through his hair, stretching as if everything was fine. 

“They were good, Melissa was at work, they played outside as I did yardwork... he needs dinner though.” 

“Good, I’ll probably make him hot dogs. He looks about done for the day.” 

“They played hard,” Rafa said with a smile, waving goodbye as John headed for his car. “Take care.” 

With the door shut behind him, Rafa leaned against it, his head banging against the back of the door as he thought about his finger in Stiles’ mouth, about the feel of his ass against his hand. He didn’t know if he’d ever get that close again, didn’t know if he’d have another chance.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reminder this is fantasy like whoa. not real. i do not condone this irl.

Stiles spent a lot of time at the McCall’s. He was there when Rafa got home from work, sitting at the dining room table with Scott, working on homework. He stayed for dinner, most nights, until John came to pick him up just before Scott took a bath. It was a constant reminded of what Rafa couldn’t have, Stiles being so close. 

“I just don’t understand why he can’t, I don’t know, switch off,” Rafa said from the closet as he changed for bed. Melissa sat on their bed, shaking her head. 

“He’s trying his best, Raf,” Melissa told him. He knew, he knew that John was _trying_. Fuck, his wife had _died_ , of course he was trying to keep their lives together but having Melissa and he raise him wasn’t the answer. 

“Surely Scott has other friends,” Rafa stated as Melissa gave him a cold, hard stare. 

“Claudia was my best friend,” she said, heartbroken. “How could you say such a thing about Stiles?” Rafa didn’t even look at her, he couldn’t. He was trying to save himself, to save Stiles from him but that wouldn’t work. “You’re going to pick them up at the bus stop tomorrow,” Melissa said. “I work until midnight.” 

“Fine,” Rafa stated. 

“John needs a night off. Since it’s Friday, I told Scott that Stiles could spend the night.” Rafa said nothing as he got into bed, thinking about Stiles sleeping over. “So keep them occupied.” 

“I will,” Rafa said as he turned out the light.

-

Stiles’ tear stained face as he got off the bus almost sent Rafa into a rage blackout. He bent down, picking Stiles up, though he was well past the age for it now, to check him for injuries. 

“What happened?” Rafa asked as Stiles wiped at his eyes, his nose running. Scott walked beside them, looking up at them. 

“Bullies,” Scott said plainly as Stiles buried his face against Rafa’s collar, smudging it with snot as he wrapped his arms around Rafa’s neck, his fingers playing at the nape of his neck. Scott sighed, looking to the ground. “It happens a lot.” 

“I miss my mom,” Stiles said, his breath hot against Rafa’s neck. Rafa rubbed his back idly as they walked towards the house, which was only a few houses away. 

“I know, kiddo,” Rafa said as he held him close. Once they got inside, he told Scott to start his homework. 

“It’s the weekend,” Scott complained. “We want to play.” 

“This way you won’t have to do it on Sunday,” Rafa pointed out as he took Stiles into the bathroom, sitting him down on the counter. With his legs spread, his feet kicking against the cupboard below, Stiles watched as Rafa wet a washcloth. He held the back of Stiles’ head as he wiped away his tears, his snot covered lip. 

“You can tell me anything, you know that, right?” Rafa asked as he wiped across Stiles’ lips. Stiles nodded his head, his mouth open as he breathed, his nose stuffed up from crying. 

“Am I going to get bigger?” Stiles asked, his breath hitching in his throat as he calmed down, as if he couldn’t breathe properly, like he had been sobbing. Rafa rubbed Stiles’ back. 

“You will,” Rafa said with a small smile, his thumb caressing Stiles’ cheek as his hand cupped his face. Stiles closed his eyes as he bit his lip. “You’ll be taller than your dad.” 

Stiles laughed, probably because he didn’t believe Rafa, but he laughed just the same. Without thinking, Rafa bent down and kissed Stiles on the forehead. He stilled, his lips pressed against Stiles’ skin as he wondered what Stiles would do. Stiles wrapped his arms around Rafa’s neck, clinging to him so that he could be carried out of the bathroom. 

“I think you can walk,” Rafa said. Stiles shimmied down Rafa’s body, unsurprisingly not coming up past his waistline. That thought alone had Rafa ushering Stiles out of the bathroom and towards the table so he could do his homework. “You two do homework while I do mine, then we can go get pizza.” 

“Pizza!” Both boys said, their faces lighting up and Stiles’ bad day seemingly forgotten. Rafa changed out of his work clothes, putting his snot covered shirt into the laundry basket, before he booted up his laptop to answer some emails. 

The boys didn’t do their homework, so much as mess around until they complained about how hungry they were. Rafa caved, mainly because of Stiles’ pout and Scott’s puppy eyes, but he caved nonetheless. 

Taking them out for pizza may have been a mistake. Stiles was not a clean eater, and got sauce down the front of his shirt, despite being old enough to handle holding a slice of pizza. Giving them soda, as well, meant that they were bouncing off the walls by the time they got back home. 

“Okay, okay,” Rafa said. “Time to change clothes, come on, into Scott’s room.” Both boys raced up the stairs, knocking into the walls of the hallway on their way up there. By the time Rafa got into Scott’s room, they were both striping out of their clothes, tossing sauce and cheese covered shirts and shorts onto the floor. “Pick those up, you know where they go,” Rafa said, crossing his arms as he pretended he wasn’t watching Stiles who was already down to his briefs. 

“Let me see your faces and fingers,” Rafa said, holding out his own. Stiles held his hands out, his fingers wiggling. No sauce. “You’re fine, Stiles,” Rafa said, ruffling his hair. He did the same to Scott, making sure they were clean enough for new clothes. “Let’s do pajamas.” 

“No,” Stiles complained. 

“Dad it’s too early,” Scott said with a pout. 

“I didn’t say it was bedtime,” Rafa stated. “I said to put pjs on. I’m going to put mine on, too. I’ll meet you two downstairs,” Rafa said, leaving them alone to sort out their clothes. He walked down the hall and into his bedroom. He left the bathroom door open a crack as he allowed himself to cup his erection, his eyes closing. He should be used to this, to Stiles and to everything but he wasn’t. He couldn’t get him out of his system, it was next to impossible. 

Rafa let out a stifled moan as he felt his climax nearing. He just about had a heartattack when the door creaked open, revealing Stiles, his hands on the doorknob and his eyes wide as he watched. His climax rushed through his body as he shuddered, coming onto his hand as he looked at Stiles. 

“I’ll be down in a minute,” Rafa said, licking his fingers, not allowing Stiles to see how fucked up he felt. Stiles stood there, his eyes locked on Rafa’s hand as he nodded his head. Then he was gone. 

Rafa washed his hands, then got into a pair of pajama bottoms. He went barechested, because the night was warm. When he made his way downstairs, the two boys were on the couch, in the middle of playing a video game. 

“Only twenty minutes of game time left,” Rafa said, setting the timer. “Since you started without telling me.” It had been Melissa’s idea to give Scott only thirty minutes of video game time a day, something he had no issue with enforcing. 

“What? Why?” Scott asked, pausing the game as Rafa let the timer countdown. 

“You know the timer needs to go when you start.” 

“But Stiles is here,” Scott said, as if that would change things. 

“Yeah, I don’t have a limit,” Stiles called out, though he wasn’t looking towards Rafa. 

“Here you do,” Rafa said. “You’re wasting your twenty minutes,” he reminded Scott. They went back to playing until the timer went off. “Turn it off.”

“Ugh,” Scott said as he got off the couch to do just that, stomping his feet dramatically as he went. “Now what.” 

“Now you have enough time left to watch a movie before bedtime.”

“The Incredibles!” Stiles called out. 

“I want to watch Balto,” Scott said, crossing his arms. 

“You have to both decide on something, or I get to.” 

“What do you want to watch?” Stiles asked. 

“He watches grown up stuff like NCIS,” Scott said, crawling back onto the couch. “Boring stuff.” 

“We can watch Bolt,” Stiles said as a compromise. 

“Okay!” Scott said, looking at his dad expectantly. Rafa smiled at them, then got the movie ready to play. He sat down on the couch, on the end, out of their way, then hit play. 

Scott lasted thirty minutes before he was out, head on the armrest, his mouth open. Stiles sat cross legged in the middle of the couch, forcing his eyes to stay open. It wasn’t even nine yet, three hours before Melissa was due to be home. Rafa thought to leave Stiles alone, to not instigate anything, that it would be better, but his willpower crumbled as Stiles yawned, rubbing at his eyes with his hands. 

“Come here,” he urged, tugging on Stiles’ shirt. Stiles didn’t need goading, it seemed, as he climbed into Rafa’s lap, his head resting on Rafa’s shoulder. Rafa handed allowed himself to do this in a long time, holding Stiles in his arms. Stiles burrowed against Rafa, not even watching the movie anymore. Rafa rubbed Stiles’ back, sighing as Stiles’ hands gripped his shirt. 

“I can hear your heart,” Stiles mumbled. Rafa held his breath as Stiles resituated himself, his head nudging its way beneath Rafa’s chin. He could tell there was a difference in Stiles, and no wonder, with the loss of his mother and a father who would rather work than look at a son who resembled his mom so clearly. Rafa cupped Stiles’ face in his hands, forcing Stiles to look at him. 

Stiles sat there, allowing Rafa to move him as he pleased, his fingers still clenching around Rafa’s shirt as he sat straddling Rafa’s lap. Rafa placed a kiss on Stiles’ forehead, letting out a shaky breath. Stiles’ eyes closed, his body limp in Rafa’s arms. He did it again, then on Stiles’ cheek, wanting to envelope him in an embrace, wanting to do more to him but stopping himself. 

“My dad says I’m getting bigger,” Stiles said, looking down at his hands. Rafa didn’t know where Stiles was headed, but as Stiles looked up at him, at his lips, Rafa’s stomach clenched. “I’m taller than Scott now.”

“You’re growing up,” Rafa conceded, running his thumb over Stiles’ lips. Stiles sat up straighter, proud of that fact. “Such a big boy.” Stiles grinned, but it fell quickly. 

“My mom won’t get to see me grow up,” Stiles said, curling in on himself. Rafa’s heartstrings tugged as his face dipped down, his lips brushing over Stiles’, stealing his first kiss from him. He was so tiny against Rafa, his mouth not knowing what to do. Stiles stilled beneath him until Rafa moved his lips, unable to take back what he’d just done. He held one hand behind Stiles’ head, the other sliding down his back, holding his ass, pressing his small body against Rafa’s. When Rafa ended the kiss, Stiles chased after him, not knowing what to do. He mouthed at Rafa’s chin, his hands coming up to hold onto his cheeks, mimicking Rafa’s hold on him earlier. 

“That’s a grown up kiss,” Stiles said. “Like what parents do.” 

“You said you were bigger,” Rafa said, hoping it made sense to Stiles. “So you get grown up kisses.” 

Stiles pressed his lips against Rafa’s, his tongue even darting out of his mouth. There was no finesse as Rafa allowed Stiles to do as he pleased, take what he wanted. Stiles pecked at his cheeks, at his mouth. It wasn’t until Rafa couldn’t take it anymore, his own tongue sliding against Stiles’ willing mouth, that Stiles let out his first moan. Stiles stopped kissing him, burying his face against Rafa’s neck as he wrapped his arms around him. 

“I’m sorry,” Stiles cried out, clinging to him. “I didn’t mean to.” 

“Didn’t mean to what?” Rafa asked, calming him by rubbing his back. 

“I-- I--,” Stiles stammered, a hand reaching down between them. All the blood in Rafa’s head rushed south at the implication. Stiles had an erection, and had one from kissing Rafa. 

“Shh, shh,” Rafa said, patting Stiles’ back. “It’s alright, Stiles.” Stiles sniffled, looking up at him with such trusting eyes. “Even adults get those.”

“Really? Stiles asked. Rafa nodded his head. 

“It means we like someone,” Rafa stated. Stiles, shy, looked down at Rafa’s lap, his fingers trailing over Rafa’s obvious erection. “See?” Stiles nodded his head, his hand moving to his own erection, touching himself as he bit his lip. 

“My dad said they just happen,” Stiles stated. “Like how when I wake up in the morning, I have to keep changing my sheets.” 

Rafa’s breath hitched in his throat at the thought of Stiles having wet dreams at nine, that he could already be starting puberty. Scott hadn’t, yet. Rafa thought Stiles--

“That’s normal,” Rafa said.

“Scott doesn’t do it,” Stiles said, looking distraught. “I asked him.”

“He will, you’re just growing faster than he is,” Rafa said, touching Stiles’ lips once more. “Do you ever touch yourself?” Stiles shrugged. “Do you know how?”

“Yes,” Stiles said, indignantly. “Dad said not to use socks.” Rafa laughed, nodding his head as he imagined John having that conversation with Stiles. “Don’t use socks, but tissues.”

“Oh,” Stiles said, his face reddening as he bit his lip. “So adults use tissues?” Stiles asked. 

“Or other things,” Rafa said, thinking about how depraved he was, wanting to get Stiles off. Instead of saying anything else, Stiles leaned forward, kissing Rafa again. “Want to see?” Stiles nodded his head, his mouth over Rafa’s. Rafa stood up easily with Stiles in his arms, leaving Scott asleep on the couch. It was still early, there was still time before Melissa came home. 

He took Stiles up into the master bedroom, laying him down onto the bed. Stiles sat there, not knowing what to do. Rafa kissed him again, loving the taste of him in his mouth. He was so trusting. He hooked his fingers around Stiles’ sleep pants, sliding them down his thighs, revealing his erection. Without a word, Rafa bent over, licking at it. Stiles whined, his fingers digging into Rafa’s scalp as he held onto his hair, shaking as Rafa took him into his mouth, savoring the taste. 

“Mr. Rafa,” Stiles cried out, spilling down his throat. The thin liquid was next to nothing on the tip of his tongue, but knowing that Stiles just came in his mouth made Rafa hard. When Rafa looked up at him, Stiles had tears in his eyes. 

“Shh, Stiles,” Rafa said, wiping at his cheeks. “That felt good, didn’t it?” Stiles nodded his head as he clung to him. “It makes you feel good.” 

“I-- I didn’t know that could happen when awake,” Stiles stammered. Rafa smiled at him, his thumb pressing against Stiles mouth. Stiles looked up at him as he sucked at it. 

“Do you want to make me feel good, Stiles?” Rafa asked. Stiles nodded his head, his cheeks red. “I want you to make that happen to me too. Do you think you can do that?” 

“I don’t know how.” Rafa sat on the bed, his legs spread as he unzipped his pants, unable to think about anything except Stiles’ wide eyes and wet mouth. Stiles got off the bed, standing before it as Rafa took his own cock in hand, stroking it a few times before Stiles reached out, touching it. Rafa moaned at the touch, of his small hands wrapping around his girth. His fingers barely touched around him, and as he licked, the size of his mouth next to Rafa’s cock was astounding. 

“Just like that,” Rafa sighed, running his fingers through Stiles’ hair as he licked and licked. “Don’t use your teeth, okay?” Stiles nodded his head, trying to put the head of Rafa’s cock into his mouth. He got the head in, but couldn’t put much more in at all. It was enough, though, with the vision of Stiles’ mouth wide around his cock to bring Rafa’s climax closer. 

When Rafa came, Stiles coughed, making a face at the taste of him. Rafa laughed, pulling Stiles up into his lap, kissing him, tasting himself on Stiles’ lips. Stiles held onto him, letting Rafa’s tongue slip into his mouth. 

“This will be our secret,” Rafa said. Stiles nodded his head, kissing Rafa again. After putting Stiles’ pajamas back on him, he held Stiles in his arms, taking him back downstairs. The movie ended, with Scott still asleep on the couch. When Rafa sat down, flipping over to the TV, Stiles made himself comfortable in Rafa’s lap until he fell asleep in his arms.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading, and for those of you who subscribed. 
> 
> warning: this fic contains what is listed in the tags in an extremely underage situation. if that squicks you in the slightest, do not read. 
> 
> this is pure fantasy. i in now way condone this in a real setting.

Rafa worked later and later, drank more and more as time went on. It was almost too much, knowing that Stiles was at his house with Melissa, spending the night on Friday nights, on various nights of the week when John worked nights. 

He shouldn’t have given in, allowed himself the pleasure of defiling Stiles. Now, whenever Stiles was over, he climbed onto Rafa’s lap, his mouth seeking Rafa’s without preamble. Trying to explain to him why he couldn’t do that with Melissa’s watchful eye, or even Scott’s, had been difficult. 

“We can’t kiss like adults anymore, Stiles,” Rafa said, pushing Stiles’ small hands off of him one evening. Stiles looked hurt, his eyebrows furrowed, his mouth wet with Rafa’s spit from kissing. 

“Why?” Stiles asked, his fingers clenched around Rafa’s shirt. “I’ll be good, I promise.” Rafa melted, giving in. Stiles wanted more, wanted to be kissed, to be debauched by him. He sought out Rafa’s touch. “Please,” he begged. He was growing, faster than Scott, his body lanky, his fingers longer. 

“You’re such a big boy,” Rafa said. Stiles beamed at him with a toothy grin, a few missing. His last baby teeth gone. They were going to middle school next year, and Rafa knew that his time with Stiles, where he was still innocent as to what Rafa was really doing to him. 

So Rafa drank to forget the feel of Stiles beneath his fingertips, how he tasted, how he moaned and panted as Rafa sucked his little cock. 

By the time Rafa came home one Friday night, he was just on the edge between a full body buzz and smashed. He loosened his tie as he made his way up the stairs, swaying as he went. Instead of going to his room, where Melissa was surely asleep in their bed, he opened the door to Scott’s room. He and Stiles lay curled up on the bed together. 

Rafa sighed, trying to talk himself out of what he wanted. It was as if his feet moved forward without his consent, his arms reaching out for Stiles, picking him up off the bed. He was heavy, now, heavier than when he first laid his hands on Stiles. He took Stiles downstairs, laying him down on the couch before he undid his work pants, making it easy for himself later. 

He ran his fingers through Stiles’ hair, then pressed his thumb inwards against Stiles’ mouth, making him suck on it. His body reacted to the feeling, a harsh grab at Stiles’ crotch reminding him that he wasn’t sober, but he _wanted_. He was going to take everything from Stiles. 

Rafa stripped off Stiles’ clothes, situating him on the couch so that he was on his stomach, his legs over the edge of the cushions, showing off his perfect ass. He hadn’t been here before, saving it for when he was ready, when Stiles was ready. Still small, but not as small as before, Rafa couldn’t wait any longer for Stiles to grow. 

First, he took his cock and rubbed it against the cleft of Stiles’ ass, his eyes closing as he imagined himself fucking him. Rafa’s eyes opened. He had an idea. Standing up, he walked into the kitchen, grabbing the nyquil. It was adult strength, but he knew if he wanted Stiles to stay asleep, that children’s wouldn’t be strong enough. 

He poured a small capful then fed it to Stiles, who stirred as Rafa tilted his head back enough. 

“Drink this,” Rafa urged him. “It will make you feel good.” 

“I don’t like it,” Stiles complained, his hands swatting at Rafa, attempting to stop him. In the end, it went down anyways. Groggily, Stiles lay pliant on the couch, his face set in a pout as Rafa got to his knees. “What are you doing?” Stiles asked, craning his neck to watch as Rafa brushed a thumb over his hole. “That’s-- that’s, my dad said not to touch there.” 

“Hmm, baby boy, this is only where adults can touch,” Rafa said, soothing Stiles’ bare back. “Like kissing.” Stiles whined, his legs spreading instinctively as Rafa pushed his asscheeks apart. Rafa watched as Stiles’ eyes closed, even though he attempted to keep them open. “That’s it, baby, feel that drowsiness kick in.” He bent over, swiping his tongue over Stiles’ tight hole; perfect. Stiles squirmed, trying to get up, but Rafa put a hand over his lower back, keeping him in place, his tongue lapping at him again, enjoying the feeling of Stiles struggle against him, panting as Rafa wet his hole. 

“Please,” Stiles begged, though he wasn’t sure what for. 

“Give in to it, Stiles,” Rafa encouraged him. “Have I hurt you before?” Stiles hesitated, then shook his head. “Let me have this,” Rafa said before delving his tongue in deeper, making Stiles shout. That wouldn’t do, not with Melissa upstairs. She slept light, would hear Stiles’ cries. Rafa took his tie the rest of the way off, putting it into Stiles’ mouth. Stiles fought against him now. 

Rafa groaned when he realized that he didn’t have lube downstairs for Stiles, and he needed it desperately. He took out the gag, smoothing his hand down Stiles’ back, kissing at his ear, his cheek until Stiles calmed down, his eyes closing. 

He was asleep once more. 

Rafa went upstairs, into he and Melissa’s room, going into the bathroom for the lube. When he emerged, Melissa turned over in bed. 

“Raf, what are you doing, its three in the morning,” she said, her voice low. She looked to the lube, then back up at him. 

“I was going to-- jack off.” Melissa groaned, waving at him. 

“Don’t wrack up the cable bill,” she said into her pillow. “And clean up afterwards, I don’t want the boys wondering what’s wrong.” Rafa grinned as he shut the door behind him. When he got downstairs, he turned on the TV, finding the first porn he could. Something about cheerleaders. Stiles didn’t move at the noise, or the light, and now Rafa could actually see what he was doing with the young boy. 

His cock leaked as he slicked up a finger, pressing it against Stiles’ opening. Stiles moved at the intrusion, whimpering as Rafa pushed inwards. He almost came at the feeling of Stiles’ tight ass around his finger. He moved his finger in and out, giving short thrusts as he smeared the lube around. Stiles whined, his arms moving back, limply pushing at Rafa’s hand; the nyquil already kicked in. Stiles was his to take. 

Rafa picked up Stiles’ hand, taking two fingers into his mouth, sucking them as he fucked Stiles with his finger. He added more lube, slowly opening him up. He pulled back, admiring the look of lube, shiny around Stiles hole, some trickling down his thighs. Rafa bent over, taking the meat of Stiles’ ass into his mouth and sucking, nuzzling his nose at his entrance before he tried two fingers. It was tight, almost unbearably so as he pushed inwards. Stiles’ face scrunched up in pain as Rafa slid his free hand up and down Stiles’ spread thighs, tugging on his little cock, which was hard as it hung down between his legs. Rafa pulled his fingers out, then took his cock in hand, rubbing it against Stiles’ entrance, shoving his head into the small hole. It wouldn’t fit, but the feel of his tight heat against the head of Rafa’s cock was enough. He came onto it, spilling over Stiles’ ass and lower back. 

Rafa licked it clean, lapping at it as he pressed some of it inwards, fucking Stiles with his own come. He took Stiles’ cock in hand, jacking him off, making Stiles come into his hand in a small, liquidy streak. 

After fucking Stiles with his fingers for what felt like hours, Rafa poured more lube onto his ass, watching it drip down the cleft of it before fucking into him, this time with three fingers, opening him wide. He pulled back, watching Stiles’ ass close up. His cock ached, dripping once more with need. Almost. 

He bent over Stiles’ breathing harshly in his ear as he mouthed at Stiles’ neck, fucking him with his fingers as he rut against Stiles’ thighs, rubbing his cock along them. He couldn’t hold back any long as he took Stiles’ ass into his hands, spreading his cheeks wide as he lined himself up. He pushed inwards slowly, moaning as he forced himself inwards. He held onto Stiles’ small waist, watching his cock disappear within him. Stiles’ limp body took him, though not easily. 

Once inside him, Rafa sucked at his shoulder, his massive hands caressing his body. After years of pining, of watching, of touching, Stiles was completely his to destroy. He moved within him, barely able to slide because Stiles was so tight. He should have waited, should have given him more time to adjust, but he couldn’t. All willpower lost, Rafa fucked into him. Stiles whimpered beneath him, waking up from the movement, surely from the pain. Rafa pulled out of him, flipping Stiles onto his back, spreading his legs wide as he entered him again. 

Stiles opened his eyes, blinking before he tried to get away, his mouth open in a silent plea. Rafa covered Stiles’ mouth with his hand as he bucked his hips, unable to slow his pace. Now that Stiles was his, he couldn’t hold back. He mouthed at his hand, covering Stiles’ whimpers as tears streamed down his face, his hands grasping at Rafa’s grip on him, neck craning in order to get away. 

“You’re so good for me,” Rafa said as Stiles moaned beneath him. “You feel perfect beneath me, so tight. You’re mine, now. You always will be.” Stiles cried, grasping for Rafa’s shirt. “I’ll uncover your mouth if you promise not to scream.” He let go of Stiles’ mouth, hung open with his tongue sticking out, his eyes wide. 

“It hurts,” Stiles said as Rafa cupped his face, slowing his thrusts, pushing in to the hilt so he was completely inside of him, fucking full. Stiles arched his back as he panted, his fingers searching for something to hold onto, his head turning towards Rafa’s palm, burrowing into it for comfort. “It hurts.” 

“It won’t for long, baby,” Rafa promised, kissing Stiles on the lips. Stiles’ tongue delved into Rafa’s mouth desperately as Rafa engulfed him. He whined against Rafa’s lips, obviously still in pain though his hands clenched around Rafa’s shirt, wanting to stay close. Rafa carded his fingers through Stiles’ hair, soothing his pleas. “I’m going to come inside you, fill you up. You’ll miss it once my cock’s out of you.” 

Rafa licked Stiles’ tears as he quickened his pace, covering Stiles’ mouth with his hand once more as he came within him, filling him completely. As Rafa pulled out, he pushed up at Stiles’ thighs, folding him in half easily to give him access to Stiles’ ass. Stiles scrambled, grasping at his legs as Rafa licked his abused hole. It was red, raw, and dripping wet with Rafa’s come. 

Stiles sobbed as Rafa sucked at it, his tongue lapping at the hole. He quieted as Rafa lowered him, pulling him into his arms. Stiles wrapped his legs and arms around him, so trusting as Rafa sat on the couch, his cock spent. 

“All mine,” Rafa said, kissing Stiles on the lips, sharing his come with Stiles, who sucked at his tongue like he was taught to do. He reached between Stiles’ legs as they kissed, pressing a finger against his used hole. Stiles squirmed, moaning into Rafa’s mouth. 

“Please, it hurts,” Stiles said, burrowing his face against Rafa’s neck. Rafa massaged his entrance, rubbing his fingers against it as Stiles rolled his small hips against him. 

“You’ll learn to love it. You were made for this, to take it.” Rafa kissed his forehead as Stiles took two of Rafa’s fingers, all on his own, and put them into his mouth to suck on. “That’s it, baby. That’s it.” 

Stiles was his to mold, now. There was no going back. He could do anything he wished, and Stiles would accept it. Rafa grinned, kissing Stiles on the cheek as he sucked on his fingers, a finger slipping into him once more. Stiles cried out, but Rafa didn’t stop. He could feel Stiles’ erection pressing against him, rubbing as he moved his hips. 

“You’ll learn.”


End file.
